


Unfair

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Voicemail, episode 65
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin is trapped in the other-worldly desert, not knowing what he did wrong. This whole situation is so unfair. Until he meets someone he didn't expect to meet ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfair

**Author's Note:**

> Erm, well yeah, hello there.
> 
> I haven't written a single word in months, and today I was sitting in the garden and ... well ... this is what came out somehow. This is my first WTNV fanfiction (my first fanfiction at all, to be honest), and I hope someone out there might like it.
> 
> I wrote this whole thing while being outside, so I didn't have a dictionary within reach, and I'm not a native speaker, so ... I'll just hope that there aren't too many mistakes in there. (And I'm so sorry about the commas; I'll never understand how English speaking people set their commas. They are a mess.)

Kevin didn't know how much time had passed. But time seemed to not play that big of a part anymore, anyway. He missed Marcos. And without the daily mandatory dosage of the StrexMeds he felt like he couldn't concentrate. His thoughts were a blurry mess of agony, fear and desperation. … And, once again, missing Marcos. 

He missed his wide, gaping smile and his warm eyes. His lips. His hands. He missed everything. And before he even realized, new hot tears were streaming down his smile-less face. 

He had thought about it for days. The only logical explanation was … that the Smiling God didn't love him anymore. He had abandoned him. And he didn't know why. He had done anything! Anything.

Sure, he had resisted at first. He had fought StrexCorp. He had spoken in code into his beloved microphone, not unlike Cecil had.

But he had changed his mind! He had let the Smiling God into “his” town and into his heart. He gave in to everything. He had happily let himself get re-educated because he had known it was for his own good. He had even given away his eyes.

And he had smiled.

He had smiled until his mouth had hurt and blood had been dripping from his lips. 

Why had He forsaken him now?

More tears. An unknown, yet strangely familiar sound, like an almost forgotten memory of a long gone past, broke through his messy head to his ears. Soft sobs. Soft weeping. The sound of crying, coming from his own mouth. How long had it been since he had last cried? A few eternities at least.

He wiped the tears away, hissing as his sun-burnt skin ached in response. He wanted Marcos to kiss his abused skin.

 _Cecil._ The thought of his counterpart came once again to his mind. His face distorted into an ugly grimace. Cecil. He sat in his strange, way too dry radio studio, talking to his unproductive town, going home after work to be greeted by the sight of his ugly scientist boyfriend. 

It was not fair. Marcos was all alone. He was all alone. It was not fair. Then another thought, yet again unwelcome, stroke him with the power of a sudden déjà-vu one is not able to suppress by any cost. This one thought, this one worry had lingered in the back of his mind all the time; always since the calming effect of the medication had stopped. He had been able to keep it away until now, but he didn't have the strength to do so at this very moment. Not anymore. 

What if Marcos had forgotten about him already? He didn't want to believe it, didn't even want to think about it, but he couldn't help it. … Not anymore.

He knew that Marcos loved him, but the meds could sometimes do things to one's had that were… 

Or what if Marcos had gotten unproductive because of his worry about Kevin? What if they had brought him to re-education? What if they had already erased every memory the two shared? They could have easily just taken it away. All of it. The first encounter at the Pony Petting Station, the first date, months thereafter, the first kiss – _just once … just gently_ … 

They wouldn't care about him being the “voice of their community”, in the end. 

In the end, all they cared about was productivity. Work and productivity. 

They didn't care about feelings.

Even if loving Marcos was the most productive thing Kevin had ever done.

He hated them. All of them. And especially Lauren. He hated them.

And he hated himself for thinking this way, for having his thoughts. He needed his meds.

With a loud sob he broke down to his knees. 

He knelt in the hot sand, not caring about the midday sun burning down on his head and his neck, not caring that he was crying out loud now, not even wiping the tears away once. He simply had no strength for caring anymore. 

He just knelt, his head buried in his open, sore hands, crying.

***

Carlos used his invention he had scientifically invented to protect Night Vale from the bright light pouring through the old oak doors and which slightly resembled an umbrella to protect himself from the hot sun now.

He smiled at this thought, because it remembered him of home. _“A friendly desert community where the sun is hot”_.

He had spent the last few days walking around in the seemingly endless desert wasteland, which wasn't that much of a wasteland after all. Doug and Alicia and their large dog had been with him to collect all the strange objects they had found. The broken washing machines, the toasters and the tennis balls and all the other things. 

Today had been an awesome day, scientifically speaking. He had met knew people who had turned out to be Night Vale citizens! And he had figured out that he was technically still in Night Vale! All of this was so exciting!

Now he was taking a walk on his own, still unbelievable happy.

He stopped as he heard the faint sound of someone crying. He took a moment to evaluate where this sound was coming from, then he made his next steps towards the respective direction, wondering who this could be. Not one of the members of the masked army; the sound was too soft to come from one of these tall people. And not the so long lost citizens of Night Vale, either, for they were all still relaxing in the newly built city.

He stopped dead in his track when he saw the figure.

Not tall or short, not thin or fat. It looked like a man. He looked like… _no_. That was not possible. Cecil was in Night Vale. 

Well … then it had to be… _yes_. As he took a few steps closer, he saw how bloodstained the clothes of the man were. Even if they were more dirty than bloody now.

He hesitated, unsure what to do next. In Night Vale it was forbidden to take care of individuals who sat, knelt or lay crying on the ground. The proper reaction was to say “Yo, Police!” and then, after exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds of waiting and standing completely still, running away screaming. An officer of the NVSSP would then show up to make sure the individual wasn't crying because of anything significant like realizing how endless the Universe was, and then they would deal with it.

But he was in the Dog Park, and no one would send an officer to this place, so he decided to take action himself.

***

Kevin didn't hear the approaching steps. He only felt the presence of someone else near him as a hand squeezed his shoulder in a soft, reassuring act. He took in a sharp breath, because despite the tenderness of the touch, his shoulders were badly burnt, and the hand immediately disappeared.

“Oh God, of course. I'm sorry.”

Kevin took in another shaky breath, then he turned to face the stranger.

Only … it wasn't.

New tears escaped his empty eye sockets, tears of joy, and he wrapped his arms tightly around the other one. 

“Marcos”, he whispered. “Oh Smiling God, you're here!”

As he was met with nothing but silence, he lifted his head to return the slightly confused gaze of his lover.

Only … it wasn't. 

Now he saw.

This perfect hair. These teeth like a military cemetery. 

Now he saw how _ugly_ the other one was.

He let go of the damned scientist, so suddenly as if touching him could kill him.

“Kevin?”, the other asked slowly, “are you alright? I- I didn't know you were here. I mean, Cecil told me that Steve…” He sighed, not finishing the sentence. 

They were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other. Then the ugly scientist spoke again.

“I- I can bring you to some friends I've made here. We've built something like a town, you can recover, and then we can … figure something out. I found out that this is still Night Vale! We're in Night Vale!”

Kevin listened to the now very excited sounding speech. 

“You can enter this desert by going through the Dog Park! Cecil will come visit! Very soon, I'm sure. And if he can come here … we'll surely be able to find a solution for you to get out.”

The scientist cast a look around, and Kevin, not speaking a single word, grabbed a rock which was withing his reach. He hid it behind his back, ignoring the outstretched hand, coming to a standing position on his own. 

And then he stroke.

The perfect hair was stained with blood.

Life wasn't so unfair like it had seemed only half an hour before. And Cecil would be just _jazzed_ about what Kevin had for him. He was sure of it.

He smiled.

***

It was way past midnight when Cecil finally got the chance to check his phone and listen to the missed calls.

He smiled at Carlos, Michelle, Tamika, Earl and Old Woman Josie, he blinked in confusion after the message which was nothing but static. He listened to Deb and wrote a quick note with one of his make-shift pens ( _Deb has a new word from our sponsors, call her back asap_ ). He curled his brows at the strangely familiar voices (voic _es_??) of Frank Chen, and he shoot a mildly panicked look at his closet after listening to what the Faceless Old Woman had to say. He sighed in frustration because of Steve. He enjoyed the weather. He didn't quite know what to make of Dana's and Fey's calls, but it sure was nice to hear Fey sing a few words, even if she sounded rather sad.

And then …

He scrolled through the list, searching frantically through the numbers, asking himself where _he_ got his number from, not finding an unknown number at all.

Then he realized.

The log entry which showed the last call that had come in … had been made from Carlos' number.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo ... I know that Kevin probably got Cecil's number when they were working "together" and I'm also sure nothing happened to Carlos, but ... ah well, I'm just so happy I wrote a thing after so long. :]


End file.
